


I Want Something that I Want

by FallingLikeThis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Angst and Humor, Bad Boy Harry, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, HL Summer Fic Exchange, Humor, I'm really not good at tagging, Kitten, Liam is a mere mention, Louis has a sort of low sense of self worth, M/M, Niall/harry/zayn friendship, Tattoos, excessive use of the word bastard, he's Harry's friend, hopefully, i guess, motorcycle, niall is captain of the SS Stylinson, sort of, zayn/niall/louis friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/pseuds/FallingLikeThis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson hates bad boys. </p><p>Except he doesn't. And he really doesn't hate the one standing outside his new favorite tattoo parlor, giving him the once-over. </p><p>But he'll soon find out that his bad boy makes for a laughably poor specimen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want Something that I Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildhalos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildhalos/gifts).



Here’s the thing: Everyone loves a bad boy. 

Louis Tomlinson is no different. He wants to be. He wishes he was. But he’s not. 

So, when he sees a boy with tattoo-covered arms, a ripped up flannel shirt, and wild curls wrapped in a freaking bandanna leaning against a motorcycle outside the tattoo shop where Louis is about to get his 14th tattoo, a thrill runs down his spine. 

No! No, it doesn’t. It’s September. It’s _chilly_ is all. Those green eyes staring Louis down aren’t even the slightest bit appealing. Neither is that cocky grin. And _what_ is with the way he’s tugging on his bottom lip? Huh? Who _does_ that? That’s not sexy at all.

When Louis glances at the boy as he passes to walk into the parlor, he absolutely doesn’t squeal inside when the boy winks at him. 

And maybe if he keeps telling himself that, he’ll actually start to believe it.

(No, he won’t.)

 

~*~*~*~

 

When Louis walks out of the parlor 45 minutes later with a smile at his new artwork, it fades a bit when he realizes that motorcycle boy is gone.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Louis tells himself that it’s not ridiculous that he’s gotten 4 new tattoos just hoping to find motorcycle boy at that tattoo parlor again. He _likes_ his new tattoos. He hasn’t just gotten useless crap that means nothing in an effort to see the boy again. But his sole purpose for going wasn’t the tattoo itself no matter how many times Louis tells himself otherwise.

His disappointment (which he will still deny with his dying breath) must show on his face because this time, the artist questions him. Normally, Louis would think that was rude and tell the guy to fuck off, but Zayn has become sort of a friend after so many repeat visits to the parlor. Louis has never made a friend this easily, so just this once, he’ll allow it.

“Mate, if you aren’t enjoying the ink, why do you keep coming back?” Zayn asks looking amused at Louis’ expression. Maybe even a bit like he knows that’s not the real reason for Louis’ depression.

“No!” Louis rushes to assure the lad. “I love them. Why would you think I didn’t?”

Louis is a bit shit at playing off his hopelessness.

“You always look even sadder leaving than when you got here,” Zayn answers with a shrug.

“Maybe I just hate leaving your rousing company,” Louis tries to tease but his eyes are drifting all over so that he doesn’t accidentally look Zayn in the eye and give himself away. Movement catches his eye and he looks out the shop window to see none other than motorcycle boy dismounting from his bike. Louis wouldn’t mind mounting _him_. 

Zayn clears his throat and Louis turns to see the lad smirking at him knowingly. Damn it. He’s done exactly what he was trying not to do and now Zayn knows of his ridiculous crush on the nameless boy that is headed inside the shop now.

 _Shit!_ He’s headed into the shop. And Louis has nowhere to hide. He turns to Zayn quickly, his desperation giving his eyes a maniacal sheen. “How about another tattoo?”

Zayn chuckles, eyes shifting between Louis and the boy who is now opening the door.

“Sorry, mate. Can’t,” Zayn says not sounding sorry at all, the bastard, as he gives Louis a friendly pat on the arm and nods over his shoulder. “I have an appointment.”

Louis turns to find that motorcycle boy’s eyes are glued to his ass.

He looks up as Louis turns and gives Louis that same cocky grin as last time, a dimple Louis didn’t notice before showing on his left cheek.

Louis doesn’t swoon. He _doesn’t_. But it’s a near thing.

“Harry!” Zayn calls hopping the counter and squeezing the new arrival in a tight dude/bro hug. Louis simmers with jealousy even though he knows that Zayn has a boyfriend. One whose name _isn’t_ Harry.

“Give me a minute to get set up and then I’ll call you back,” Zayn says as he lets Harry go and hops the counter again, giving Louis a wink as he passes, before disappearing into the back.

Louis stands there a bit dumbly for a second as Harry openly stares, eyes traveling Louis’ body. He’s doing that lip tugging thing again and Louis has trouble staying where he is instead of closing the distance to ask Harry if he wants a ride of a different kind.

“Hi,” he says instead. 

“Hey,” Harry answers in a deep, sexy as fuck, gravelly voice.

Louis gulps loudly. How the fuck is he supposed to resist _that_? Because the thing is, as much as Louis finds himself attracted to bad boys, he’s been with enough of them to know that getting attached is a bad idea. But he desperately wants to attach himself to Harry. In many ways. From many different possible attachment points. Repeatedly.

“What did you get?” Harry asks looking at the wrapping on Louis’ arm.

What?” Louis looks down and sees the wrapping, realizes what Harry is talking about. “Oh, it’s just a bird.”

“A bird, like, with wings?” Harry asks taking a step closer. “Or a bird with…”

“Wings!” Louis cuts Harry off not wanting to know how the boy would describe a member of the female persuasion.

Harry chuckles closing the distance a bit more. “Good choice. I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Louis. French spelling,” Louis answers and nearly winces at how stuck up he sounds. At least he didn’t stutter though. 

“French, huh?” Harry crowds a little closer. “I bet you’re really good at French things.”

Louis’ eyebrows rise of their own accord. “I do alright.”

Again, no stuttering. Way to go, Tommo!

“Only alright?” Harry has Louis backed against the counter now. “I could show you a few things, if you’d like.”

Louis’ heart is rabbiting in his chest; his hands itching to grab the other boy’s shirt and draw him in, let Harry do all the dirty things he wants to him.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Zayn interrupts, again not sounding the least bit apologetic, the bastard. “I’m ready for you, Harry.”

“Maybe next time,” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear before his lips teasingly brush Louis’ cheek. 

And then he’s gone.

Louis stands there frozen for a moment before it occurs to him that he should probably do something to hide the obvious erection in his trousers. He adjusts himself discretely. At least, he thought he was being discrete until there’s joyful laughter behind him.

“Was that for Zayn or Harry?” An Irish voice asks jovially.

“Shit,” Louis mutters to himself before turning to face the lad behind the counter. He’s blond with a friendly smile and sparkling blue eyes that shine with laughter.

“Which one will get me in the least amount of trouble?” Louis asks sounding defeated. 

Really, the universe can stop using him to have a laugh any time now.

“Well, Zayn is my boyfriend, so I’d go with Harry if I were you,” the boy answers but he doesn’t sound harsh or jealous. He sounds like he really wouldn’t care no matter which name Louis answered and Louis can’t help but like the lad. Even if his boyfriend _is_ a bastard.

“Oh, you must be Niall,” Louis says reaching out with the hand that wasn’t just adjusting his dick for a handshake. “I’m Louis.”

Still, Niall looks at the hand dubiously until just before Louis is ready to retract it before Niall breaks out another cheery grin and shakes the hand with an “I’m just fuckin’ with ya.”

“Nice to know Zayn talks about me. Everything he says about my giant cock is absolutely true,” Niall offers as conversation. It’s still not the strangest one Louis has ever had. No, that award goes to the (possibly homeless) man on the bus the other day with a tentacle fetish. Or possibly ‘ten tickles’. He was a bit difficult to understand.

“Niall, stop spreading lies about your cock,” Zayn says returning and giving his boyfriend a quick kiss before grabbing something from under the counter. 

“Not lies,” Niall argues sounding affronted at the mere thought that he would lie about his cock. “They’re not lies, Louis!”

“I know that but no one else needs to. It’s mine, anyway. Don’t want anyone trying to steal it,” Zayn purrs a bit too loudly into Niall’s ear and Louis knows the fucker is doing it on purpose.

“Fine,” Niall complies with his ever-present grin. “No more stories about my massive cock. No matter how true they are. But you don’t need to worry. He’s hard for Harry anyway.”

“I never said that,” Louis hisses.

“You didn’t have to,” Niall returns, the cheeky little shit.

“I take that as a compliment,” Harry calls, chuckling from one of the back rooms that is, apparently, not all that far back.

“I hate you all,” Louis grumbles and turns to leave. 

He can still feel Niall and Zayn’s smirks on his back half a block away, the bastards.

 

~*~*~*~

 

It actually takes a few meetings for Louis to realize something isn’t right with Harry. For all Harry’s crowding in Louis’ space and making promises that always lead to severe sexual frustration, he never actually pushes that extra inch. He doesn’t try to force it. He’s doesn’t turn into the complete asshole that Louis expects at each new turn. He’s almost… _sweet_. And that throws Louis for a loop.

By now, Louis’ given Harry his number in a fit of insanity but Harry hasn’t _used_ it yet. Which is the _most_ assholic thing he’s done. 

Louis’s just going to visit Zayn and Niall at the parlor (because he’s seen them so much lately that they’ve somehow morphed into _actual_ friends) when he runs into Harry outside. Again. Harry’s back is to him and Louis has half a mind to tell the boy off for not calling. Of course, as he’s working himself up to it, he swears he hears Harry… cooing?

“Harry?” Louis calls uncertainly, all the steam he’d worked up dissipating at the unexpected sounds coming from Harry’s lips.

Harry jumps at the sound of Louis’ voice, turning to face him but making sure to hide his hands behind his back.

“Louis! Nice ass, babe,” Harry leers once he’s hidden the shock that was previously residing on his face.

Louis raises an unimpressed brow. 

“Unless you’ve got eyes on the back of _my_ head, I’m pretty sure you haven’t seen my ass today,” Louis retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Pfft,” Harry snorts but quickly follows it up with a cocky smirk. “I don’t have to see it to know that’s a compliment that will always hold true.”

Louis is about to reply with something witty and biting. He’s sure he could have come up with _something_ anyway had it not been for the soft mewling sounds coming from behind Harry’s back.

“What have you got there, Harry?” Louis asks extending his neck to peak around the larger boy to try and see what he’s hiding.

“Pardon me,” Harry excuses himself before turning and freaking _whispering_ in soothing tones to whatever’s behind his back. 

Louis cannot contain his curiosity. And he won’t give Harry the chance to try to stop him as he slips around the other boy when he’s not looking. And there, in one of Harry’s giant hands, is a kitten. A _kitten_. Fluffy and soft-looking and fucking adorable. And Harry is looking at it with such adoration that Louis can’t contain the little “aww” that slips from his mouth. Both boys startle at the sound and for a second, Louis swears that Harry looks panicked. But then his annoying smirk pops back into place and he’s winking at Louis.

“Gotta go, babe,” Harry says and takes off walking tossing over his shoulder an infuriating, “Call you later”.

“You better,” Louis grumbles to himself as he’s left standing alone on the sidewalk.

 

~*~*~*~

So, it’s suddenly occurring to Louis that he hasn’t seen Harry actually riding his motorcycle before. And now he knows why: the boy is bloody _awful_ at it. 

Louis was just saying goodbye to Zayn, tattoo paid for, hug given, about to head out the door when Harry pulled up outside and both boys couldn’t help but watch as Harry tried to fit his bike between two cars against the kerb. He’s nearly fallen about 6 times now and Zayn has called Niall in from somewhere in the back to enjoy the entertainment. They giggle into their hands as Harry finally gets his bike where he wants it. Louis’ own rather fond giggle turns into a snort when Harry finally pulls off his helmet and there’s a hot pink bandanna keeping his fringe out of his face. When he steps off the bike and turns to the parlor, seeing all of them staring at him with grins on their faces, he freezes for a half a second before he shrugs and perfects his look of aloof indifference. 

He takes a step towards the door and they all see it coming but can’t do a thing as the bike decides it doesn’t like the angle it’s sitting at and crashes to the ground behind Harry. Harry winces at the sound as, on the other side of the parlor window, Niall snorts loudly, tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks.

Louis takes pity on Harry and goes outside to help him right his bike. Harry doesn’t say a word as they work and Louis figures he’s probably embarrassed. _Louis_ would be. 

Finally, they get the bike to stay and Harry looks grateful for a moment before he turns it into a leer. 

“Thanks, babe,” he says pinching Louis’ bum before he heads inside the parlor. 

Louis shakes his head, unable to get his head around the enigma that is Harry Styles. And it occurs to him yet again that Harry _still_ hasn’t called him. The bastard. Louis turns on his heel in a huff and starts the walk home.

It never occurs to him to wonder why Harry _always_ shows up to the tattoo shop when he’s there. Every time. Never fails. 

 

~*~*~*~

 

The next time Louis sees Harry, he looks _different_. He’s not wearing his usual tattered shirt that shows off his glorious chest and sinful biceps. He’s wearing a lavender jumper that looks impossibly soft. And in place of his usual bandanna there is an expensive, rather pretty scarf tied into his chestnut curls. He looks so cute and _nice_. Which. Usually, that would turn Louis off. It’s stupid, he knows, to want someone a bit bad, who’s sure to treat him like shit in the long run over someone that he can just _tell_ would treat him right. He’s always felt a bit like that’s the most he deserves though. But maybe he’s getting over all that because he’s not turned off in the slightest at the sight of Harry just now. If anything, he wants to cuddle into his side and see if that jumper is as soft as it looks. Pull the scarf from his hair and replace it with roving fingers.

Louis watches Harry talking on the phone through the window of the coffee shop he was about to enter. He feels a sudden, irrational surge of irritation that Harry’s on the phone, talking to someone _other_ than him.

The sound of a throat clearing pulls him from his thoughts and he turns to see a queue forming behind him. And, oh, yeah. He’s kind of blocking the doorway.

He blushes and stammers an apology before opening the door and entering, head hung pitifully in embarrassment. So, _of course_ , he runs into Harry freaking Styles making the boy spill his tea all down the front of his jumper.

“Shit! Sorry,” Louis apologizes as he stumbles to soak up the mess with handfuls of napkins.

Suddenly two massive hands catch his, effectively stopping their movements and he looks up to see Harry smiling down at him fondly. It’s enough to make his heart lurch not-uncomfortably in his chest. 

“It’s okay, Louis.”

“My apartment isn’t far,” Louis offers feeling incredibly nervous all of a sudden. “I could lend you something to wear.”

“No, it’s alright,” Harry answers looking every bit as nervous as Louis feels. “I’m fine.”

“Well, at least let me buy you a drink, to replace the one that I made you spill,” Louis offers hopefully.

For a second he thinks Harry is going to accept but then his hopes are dashed when Harry shakes his head.

“I can’t,” Harry answers. “I have a date.”

“ _Oh_.”

And, well, that hurts more than it should.

“I mean, it’s no one special,” Harry backtracks. “I could blow them off, I suppose.”

“What?” Louis asks, disbelieving. “No. That’s okay. I’m not sure I want to hang around someone who can blow people off so easily.”

Louis leaves, feeling less inclined to like Harry Styles than he ever has. He’s been _blown off_ far too many times by his ex’s to ever like someone again who would so readily make someone else feel shitty like that.

He doesn’t turn around. If he did, he’d see Harry hanging his head in absolute misery.

 

~*~*~*~

 

_**the flip side**_

 

~*~*~*~

 

Harry could kill Liam Payne.

It was his idea for Harry to play at something he’s not. Harry has to be the worst _bad boy_ in the history of bad boys. But it did work for a while. After a year of living in the same building and never getting noticed, Liam’s plan made Louis Tomlinson finally _see_ Harry. And it was going so well until Harry’s DNA screwed him over, making him fumble every encounter.

And now, he’s lost him.

In a fit of desperation, Harry has finally worked up the courage to call Louis but the other boy won’t answer. He realizes that maybe Louis won’t answer because he doesn’t know Harry’s number so he sends a text instead.

 

_It’s Harry. Please answer._

 

He tries to call Louis again but there is only one ring before it goes straight to voicemail. Which means that Louis has hit ignore. Harry sighs to himself wondering if he should just come clean. He _should_ he decides. He tries again.

 

_I can explain._

No response.

He could just go down a floor to Louis’ flat but he doesn’t want to seem like a stalker. 

Fuck. Liam has really screwed him over.

Harry’s not strong enough just yet to place the blame where it _really_ belongs. 

 

~*~*~*~

 

“Hello?” Harry answers his phone without checking the caller ID. He’s too miserable to do much of anything lately.

“He’s here,” an Irish voice tells him in a whisper.

“He doesn’t want to see me,” Harry intones dejectedly.

“And after all the trouble you’ve gone through, all the trouble _I’ve_ gone through, you’re just going to leave it at that? You’re not going to fight for him?” Niall urges.

Well, when he puts it like _that_. It does seem a bit dumb to give up now.

“Stall him.”

“Will do,” Niall promises and promptly hangs up before Harry can change his mind.

Harry drags himself out of bed and into a speedy shower. He dresses quickly letting his hair stay loose, grabs his keys, and rushes out the door. 

He rushes back in for one last thing, holding it to his chest as he hails a cab and rushes to the tattoo parlor.

Harry’s got a date with destiny.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Louis is just coming out from the back when Harry arrives. He’s laughing at Niall as the boy paws at him, trying to come up with another reason to make him stay. 

Both boys turn at the sound of the bell above the door ringing out Harry’s arrival.

Louis freezes; body stiff with uncertainty.

Harry gives a small wave and Louis’ gaze falls to what Harry is holding in his other arm. The kitten gives a soft mewl as it yawns sweetly in Harry’s hold and Louis’ gaze softens. Harry thought having the kitten might help because _who can resist a kitten?_ No one. Harry’s a bastard for it he knows but it’s working so he can’t find it in himself to feel too badly about it.

“Hi,” Harry says.

Louis turns to Niall with narrowed eyes, suddenly cluing into what the blond had been doing, it seems. 

“You bastard,” Louis hisses.

Well, at least Harry’s in good company. Niall simply shrugs not denying a thing. 

“I’ll be in the back,” he says. “Don’t fuck on the counters.”

Louis scoffs at the mere _idea_. Even if he were inclined to do that with Harry, which he’s absolutely _not_ , he wouldn’t do it in full view of everyone on the street. He has a _little_ modesty. Ok, so he doesn’t actually have that much but he’d rather not get arrested for public indecency, thank you.

“Um,” Harry’s nervous tone pulls him from his thoughts. “So, I should probably clear up a few things.”

“Let’s not,” Louis says, pointedly ignoring the kitten. “Let’s _blow it off_ , alright? I’m sure you can handle that.”

As Louis moves to push past him, Harry grabs his arm not wanting to let him get away so easily again. And to his delight, Louis doesn’t fight him. Harry can’t help but hope it’s because he doesn’t want to be let go of.

“There wasn’t anyone to blow off, okay?” Harry tells the other boy, cheeks flush with shame. “I was trying not to look too available. I… wanted to appear desirable. But when I saw the look on your face, I wanted to take it all back.”

Louis stares, unblinking; like he can’t quite believe this person is _real_. 

“And I’m not some motorcycle riding asshole either,” Harry starts.

“That’s for sure,” Louis smirks, obviously thinking back to Harry trying to park that day only to have his bike go clattering to the ground.

“Shut up,” Harry gives him a timid smile. “It is actually my bike but I don’t have a lot of practice with it.”

“What are you telling me, Harry?” Louis asks serious face on now. “That you’ve been pretending to be someone else this whole time?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry mumbles unable to bring himself to look at Louis just now. “I’ve only ever seen you with complete assholes. So, I thought maybe if I became one of them I might have a chance.”

Louis looks endeared for a total of ten seconds before his face scrunches in confusion.

“Wait. What do you mean you've _seen_ me? Have you been following me, Harry?” His face may bear the look of confusion but his tone is laced with apprehension.

“Louis,” Harry says with a self-deprecating smile,” we’ve lived in the same building for a year. I’ve walked past you making out with some idiot dozens of times.”

Louis shakes his head, skeptical. 

“No. No way. I’d remember you.”

Harry laughs a bit bitterly but pulls out his phone and quickly pulls up a picture from the last New Year’s party at his building. And sure enough, there in the background, behind Harry’s stupidly beautiful, smiling face is Louis making out with another bloke dressed eerily similar to how Harry was dressed the first time Louis met him. 

“Fuck me,” Louis mutters at the revelation.

“Not on my counters!” Niall calls from wherever he’s eavesdropping.

Harry giggles at Niall’s lack of shame and Louis smiles at him fondly before fighting the smile off his face.

“So, what you mean to tell me is that you lied?” Louis asks.

“Well, you finally noticed me. It kind of went to my head,” Harry has the decency to look ashamed of his actions. He wishes that Louis would smile at him again. Louis isn’t looking at him though. He’s looking at the kitten in Harry’s arms, moving to pet it.

“What’s its name?” Louis asks, not looking at Harry.

“Smitten,” Harry says with flushed cheeks.

Louis glares at Harry at that.

“Smitten the kitten? _Harold_ , really?” 

Harry just shrugs smiling at the ground because though Louis’ eyes say _you’re such a dork_ , his tone undoubtedly says _I like you_.

“I figure when he gets older and he’s not a kitten anymore, I can shorten it to Smitty the kitty,” Harry says totally unashamed of his utter lack of _cool_ right at this moment. Louis rolls his eyes.

“Don’t worry, kitty. I’ll protect you from the bad man with the rhyming fixation,” Louis coos, scratching the kitten behind its ears as it purrs blissfully.

“You’d have to be around to protect him,” Harry points out hopefully.

“We’ll _someone_ has to break you of these ridiculous habits,” Louis says with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Harry’s heart nearly stops. He has to do it. He has to ask to make sure this is going where he hopes it’s going.

“Louis, will you go on a date with me? Not... the me with torn sleeves and smooth pick-up lines who only cares about getting into bed with you. The me that’s standing here right now holding a kitten with a ridiculous name, with cheesy lines and even worse jokes, who would apparently do pretty much anything to impress you?” 

Louis rolls his eyes fondly.

“You’re an idiot,” he says before standing on his tip toes to reach Harry’s lips with his own. They slot together perfectly. Somehow, Harry always knew they would. Louis takes Harry’s hand in his when he pulls away. “I feel sorry for anyone who tries to impress me after this. They have some pretty big shoes to fill.”

“And pants” Niall calls out again. “I’ve heard stories! It’s not as big as mine though.”

Harry shakes his head. _How did this become his life?_ On the other hand (or should he say _in_ the other hand) he’s got Louis. So, it’s a fair trade.

 

~*~*~*~

 

So, in the end three things become glaringly evident to Louis:

1\. His new friends are lunatics. (Who apparently all have gigantic dicks. He doesn’t ever want to find out if that’s true.)

2\. His boyfriend is the furthest thing from a bad boy as you can get.

 

And

 

3\. Who needs a bad boy when you’ve got a Harry?

The boy has somehow managed to worm his way into the deepest crevices of Louis’ heart, the bastard. And Louis absolutely loves it.


End file.
